Catfood
by thecurlyone
Summary: Written for the best enemies weekly drabble challenge over on live journal. The prompt was house and/or animal
1. Chapter 1

If the Doctor didn't know any better he'd say that the Master was plotting with the cat.

The more he thought about it the more certain he was that that was the case. After all, the Master had been partly feline for a while, possibly still was, if his tendency to purr ever so softly when he was sleeping deeply was any indication.

The Doctor had decided that some companionship (other than him) would be good for the Master. Since humans were out, a pet would have to do. Finding an animal that the Master wouldn't despise and wasn't dangerous proved difficult. In the end the cat proved the ideal choice, too ideal perhaps.

Clearly the Master was using the cat in some sort of nefarious or sex-driven plot.

The cat's motives however, were unclear.

The Doctor decided he needed to find a way to communicate with the cat and make it see the light, so to speak.

It did not go well. The situation reminded him of an Eddie Izzard sketch he and the Master had watched once.

Deciding to reason with the Master instead (bound to go well) he cornered him in the kitchen.

The Master wrinkled his nose at the burnt smell that was emanating from the Doctor's suit.

"What happened you?" he chuckled.

The Doctor, in no mood for the Master's games, ignored him.

He pulls himself up to his full height, "If you don't stop it I'm getting rid of the cat."

Then he storms out, leaving a thoroughly confused Master in the kitchen.

He has nothing to do with the cat's schemes.


	2. Chapter 2:the beginning

There's no easy way to do it but the Doctor really thinks it will help. He needs to be careful about it though because for all of his cold heartedness, the Master can be surprisingly sensitive at times. And the Doctor is willing to admit to himself that sometimes he isn't the most considerate of aliens.

So, considerate...

"I think we should get a pet." He meant to bring the subject up casually but instead blurted it out.

"A pet? Whatever for? Another human for you to love for a little while and then forget about and neglect?" The Master hasn't looked up from his newspaper but the Doctor can tell he's amused. Better than upset.

"No..." the idea is to work on the Master's issues after all.

"Then what? Pass the sugar." They were having tea at the time.

"Well...I thought that getting a pet might make...you...more..." Bugger, he should have prepared something and written it down beforehand. The Master's switched from amused to annoyed now, not a good sign, the Doctor's going to end up with superglue in his hair gel again.

"Make me more what, Doctor?" he's using that tone of voice, the one that promises superglue hair gel and collapsed galaxies.

"More...happy?" The Master's folded his newspaper and his arms across his chest and is glaring now. And the Doctor doesn't think it's due to grammatical errors.

"Umm...well I thought that you might like to have something other than me to be...companionable with."

The Master's snorts, "and pray tell, just what kind of pet were you thinking of?"

Honestly this was better than he had expected so the Doctor soldiers on.

"Well, something small, easy to take care of and...well...safe." The Doctor gives him one of his winning grins, hoping that that would make things easier to take.

"Something that's not even remotely interesting you mean." The Master's shifting back towards amused now, though the Doctor is still never really sure if it's a good sign or a bad one, even after all this time.

The Doctor runs his hand through his hair, "Now just because they're not dangerous doesn't mean their boring. I mean, puppies! Full of fun! And life and so loyal."

The Master gives him a look that plainly says if you bring me puppies I will torture them. At least the Doctor thinks that's what the look means, he'd better check.

"So if I bring you puppies will you torture them?"

The Master gives the Doctor a very longsuffering look, which reminds the Doctor of the Rani.

"Yes I-

"We should go look for the Rani!" The Doctor interrupts him.

The Master groans and begins to tap out the Drum-beat on the table, something he does less frequently now and generally only when he is really annoyed. A tell that the Doctor had yet to learn to read.

He continues on, unaware of how pissed off the Master is getting.

"-I mean we might be the only Time Lords! Think of it! The old gang all back together!"

At this point the Master decides against clocking the Doctor as he is beginning to worry about his mental health.

"Doctor," he begins, "do you remember the Rani?"

The Doctor looks confused, "of course I do, do you? Is your memory failing? Is it the Drums?!"

"No Doctor my memories just fine," he's grinding his teeth now, "so say we find the Rani, what would happen then?"

"Well-

"I'll tell you what will happen. We find her, she will tell us to piss off. You, of course, won't listen, that will make her mad. I'll end up being kneed in the gonads and she'll probably kill you. Now, does that sound like a good plan?" Which he says very slowly to emphasise how stupid the Doctor's being.

The Doctor actually seems to take a moment to think this over, but the Master can see the moment that the Doctor decides that the Master's completely reasonable arguments are irrelevant. A distraction is needed, so it looks like the Master's getting a pet after all.

"I want a cat!" Just as the Doctor opens his mouth to argue about how being kneed in the bollocks or dead really isn't that bad.

The Doctor gives him one of his genuine beaming grins, the kind that the Master will never admit to liking.

Then he jumps up, shaking the table and spilling most of the tea across the table top and the floor.

"We'll clean it later" and he grabs the Master and pulls him towards the console room. The Master glances over his shoulder. They're going to Earth again, how unexpected.

*****

For once the Master isn't too picky when choosing something. The only thing he's looking for in a cat is that it requires absolutely no care and has a short life span.

The Doctor, of course, wants the perfect cat. Rassilion only knows why.

After a full day of traipsing around animal shelters, pet shops and cat shows the Master has only attempted to strangle the Doctor three times. The Doctor seems to recognise what a monumental effort of will-power this is and decides that they can stop for tea.

The Master decides to annoy the Doctor; he has been awful good so far he deserves a little treat.

"Doctor," he draws out the syllables, making the Doctor look up and blush and get a hopeful look like he thinks he's going to get blown in the cafe bathroom. No chance of that, not after the Master has had to look at 1,264 roughly identical cats. Persians were out of the question apparently because they made the Master look like "a bond villain".

"So, care to explain to me what was wrong with the 1,264 cats we saw today?"

"Well I just didn't see any...good ones that's all. The standard of cats must have deteriorated in the last decade."

"Oh, if only we had a time machine" The Master drawls.

"No, well, we can try a different time tomorrow; we shouldn't give up on this time yet."

"Yes it would be terrible to get me a cat that wouldn't make me _more happy_, now wouldn't it?"

"Err..."

"Why exactly do we need a perfect cat though?" it's just then that it dawns on the Master why the Doctor thinks they need a perfect cat.

"You're being hopelessly idiotic again aren't you?" The Doctor tries to look innocent but the Master's on to him now.

"You think that if we get the _perfect _cat it's one step in the direction of the _perfect_ curtains and the _perfect_ house...and...and...You're trying to turn us into one of those couples!" The Doctor looks quite taken aback but that's not surprising because the Master in his fervour had got out of his chair and had yanked the Doctor forward by his tie.

"Umm...one of which couples, Master?" The Doctor's trying to gently pull his tie free from the Master's grip.

The Masters slowly sits down and gives him a sharp look that makes it clear exactly _what_ kind of couple he's talking about.

"Look," says the Doctor raising his hands placating him, well trying to anyway, "between us we're probably the smartest things ever existed, we've died dozens of times, both of us are universally loved and feared depending on where you visit, there has been several religions based on us and we've blown up about a third of the known universe. I really don't think there's ever been a couple like us before and we'll certainly never be boring."

The Master inclines his head a little to concede that the Doctor may have a point.

He blows out a breath and then quirks an eyebrow, "Quite a nice bit of ego stroking there, Doctor," he waggles his eyebrows, "tempted to do some more stroking?"

The Doctor grins and leans forward and kisses him roughly, the Master bites his lip, accepting the Doctor's apology.

"So," says the Master leaning back and straightening his clothes, "can we go get a normal cat then?"

The Doctor nods.

"Good, let's get out of here then."

The Doctor supposes that it's time they left anyway; the couple at the table next to them were beginning to look very nervous.


	3. Chapter 3:Naming

After their tea, they head two years into the future and they try the same animal shelters and pet shops as before at the Doctor's insistence.

The Master grumbles but doesn't argue, much.

"Right," he says, hopping out of the TARDIS and then spinning around to face the Doctor, "let us get our very own _felis domesticus_ and then let's leave, quickly." He knows if they stay any longer the Doctor is going to get caught up in some ridiculous plot to overthrow humanity because some aliens from the Saliduk nebula need horse chestnuts to power their landing crafts, or something equally ludicrous. He, of course will be roped in by association. He sighs, he hates association.

The Doctor bounces alongside him, "_felis domesticus_ isn't a valid scientific name you know?"

"You're not a valid scientific name," the Master grumbles. His reasonably good mood is deteriorating rapidly.

"Well, actually, I sort of...am a valid scientific name" he looks vaguely sheepish about it, a look that may fool the humans but the Master isn't fooled. He just glares at him and walks on faster. A bell tinkles cheerfully when the Master opens the door; it does nothing to help his mood as it reminds him of the drums.

The Doctor continues to bounce along behind, looking at the dogs but not going too near them. Neither of them is particularly fond of dogs.

They alternatively point out cats as they walk along, in turn suggesting and dismissing them.

The woman at the third pet shop recognises them and frowns at them like they're odd when the Doctor tells her that they still haven't found a suitable cat.

The Master stands back, wondering if he should strangle the Doctor for dragging him into this smelly, squeaky, noisy, annoying place. He closes his eyes and thinks of tea and explosions.

It always calms him.

It's also the reason he wasn't paying attention and jumps when the Doctor thrusts a black and white cat in his face.

The Master eyes the cat critically, clearly it's more than an ordinary than an ordinary cat, seems to be slightly psychic. The Doctor doesn't seem to notice, thought he would need to be hit by the psychic equivalent of a London bus for him to notice. Still many animals are mildly psychic, it's nothing unusual.

They both finally agree on this cat because a) the Doctor finds it cute and b) the Master finds that it doesn't clash with his suit.

*****

Unfortunately both their mighty intellects working together for two days failed to come up with a suitable name for the cat. In his desperation that Doctor even consulted Wikipedia on cat names. Apparently the most popular cat names are: Max, Tigger, Smokey, Tiger, Chloe, Shadow, Lucy, Angel, Oliver, and Simba. No, no, no, no, no, no, definitely not-the Doctor's never letting a _Lucy_ come between them again, no, no and maybe.

The Master doesn't like the name Simba, so they're back to square one again.

The Doctor decides that they needs some outside help on this one and for once the Master agrees with him.

To Cardiff then.

It is a slow day at Torchwood and Martha and Jack are going through lists of medical supplies, seeing what they were low on and what needed stocking up. Jack had given the rest of the team a day off, so it's just them in the Hub.

The distinctive sound of the TARDIS dematerialising filled the air and seconds later the blue police box became visible.

Jack arched a brow at Martha, "Wonder what's up this time?"

Martha grinned back at him, "End of the world, what else?"

The TARDIS door opened and the Doctor popped his head out.

"Jack! Oh and Martha! Brilliant! We need your help" and he motions for them to follow him and disappears back into the TARDIS. They can hear him talking to someone but can't make out what he's saying.

"We?" Martha mouths at Jack but Jack just shrugs and shakes his head and walks towards the TARDIS, Martha following. When they enter the TARDIS they're confronted with the Master lounging in the jump seat, slowly petting the black and white cat in his arms. The Doctor is leaning against the console so he has his back to them and can't see the looks of horror, disbelief and fear on their faces. The Master can see it quite clearly though.

"I know it's bred to be eaten and wants to be eaten but I still don't think-

The Doctor is saying, oblivious to what's going on behind him.

"Doctor?" Martha asks shakily.

The Doctor turns to face her and grins, "Yes?"

"What's? What's he... doing here?" Her previous confidence in the face of the Master has all but disappeared. Jack is silent beside her, but Martha can see his knuckles turning white out of the corner of her eye.

The Doctor looks momentarily confused, "he lives here, Martha."

The Doctor of course never realised how inappropriate it is to bring the Master with him. Aside from the fact that you shouldn't bring the madman that had tortured you, your friends, their family and practically their entire species around for a visit, especially one in aid of cat naming, the Doctor had forgotten a few things:

It may have slipped his mind to mention that the Master had not, in fact died.

In such circumstances and springing the news on them in such a way, it might have been better to at least give the impression that the Master was in fact a prisoner and not free to wander about the TARDIS at will.

Discussing plans for a date (even though they didn't know that's what it was yet) in front of two former companions-that had long being carrying a torch for him- with the aforementioned madman was in bad taste.

Fortunately for the Master being considerate was not one of the Doctor's strong points. It was one of the Master's favourite things about him. It often provides endless amusement.

"Right!" the Doctor claps his hands together and then pauses perhaps realising how awkward this is, the Master hopes not-half the fun is in the Doctor being oblivious. Fortunately if he does realise he conveniently ignores it and soldiers on.

"What were we here for again?"

"Ugh...you said you needed help" Jack's found his voice again.

"Right! Right! Yes, we're trying to name the cat, any ideas?"

"The cat?" Jack asks, shell shocked.

"Yes! Isn't he cute?" and he takes the cat gently from the Master and holds it up to them. The cat purrs at them and the Doctor rubs his knuckles under its chin, then gives it back to the Master, who's still grinning. He decides to keep quiet; it's much more amusing to watch this spectacle.

"You have a cat?" Jack asks in the same stunned tone.

"Yeah, just got it two days ago. Blimey must have gone through thousands to get the right one."

"1, 765" the Master informs them serenely.

"That's a lot of cats," Martha says faintly.

The Master smiles pleasantly at her and nods in agreement. As if their casual acquaintances rather than megalomaniac and the person who helped bring down his empire.

"Doctor- Jack begins

"No, don't be silly Jack, can't name the cat after me, it'd just be confusing" he turns to the Master, "wouldn't it?"

The Master hums his agreement, grin getting wider by the second.

"No, Doctor, I mean what the hell is that manic doing here?! How the hell did he survive? Why isn't he locked up? Why haven't you locked him up instead of picking names for a damn cat?!"

The Doctor looks a little surprised.

The Master tuts, "Now I know we've had our differences but would you really let that come between us to deprive this _adorable_ puss of a name? Live and let live as the song says."

The Doctor glances back, "Actually I think it's live and let die."

The Master resumes petting the cat, "Hmm, yes for once I think you're right. Been such a long time since we've been to the sixties, we should go visit."

"Well we've got dinner reservations for tonight, tomorrow maybe?"

"Umm...Doctor, can we talk to you outside for a minute?"

The Doctor glances at the Master, who rolls his eyes, "I don't care."

"Okay, Allons-y, then" and he trots out after Martha and Jack.

He follows them down through the hub until they're far enough away from the TARDIS that the Master can't hear them.

Martha whirls to face him, "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, in tip top health, me"

Martha shakes her head, "why didn't you tell us that _he _was still alive and that apparently you're married to him!" the last bit comes out a little shrill but Martha doesn't care.

The Doctor scratches the back of his neck, "Married no, no, not married. Don't think he'd agree to that again, not after the last two times."

Seeing that this line of questioning is a dead end and the fact that his brain may just melt if he thinks about it, Jack decides to change subject.

"So a cat, huh?"

"Yes, it's a tuxedo cat!" the Doctor grins happily, Jack hates to admit it but he's never seen the Doctor this happy. _Damn..._

"Not a dog then? Always thought of you as a puppy person." As if that might suddenly bring the Doctor to his (apparently limited) senses.

The Doctor wrinkles his nose, "Naw, Time Lord, not big on dogs."

Jack quirks an eyebrow, "what are they _wrong_ too?"

"Naw, nothing like that, just evolution really."

Martha tears her eyes away from the TARDIS door, "Time Lords evolved to hate dogs?"

"Well sort of, you see we evolved from cats, so the not liking dogs thing is really unavoidable" and he shrugs and smiles in a way that Martha used to find reassuring.

"So," she starts slowly, "Time Lords are giant felines?"

"Well that's a bit of an over simplification but essentially yes. I mean physically you wouldn't really notice, got extra lumbar and thoracic vertebrae, so we're more flexible and our senses are better than humans."

"Cats, that explains so much about you two," Martha murmurs and wanders back towards her medical supplies.

He claps his hands together again, a habit he seems to have picked up from the Master and looks at Jack, "So any ideas for names?"

The Doctor trudges back to the TARDIS a few minutes later after saying his goodbyes. Martha had refused to discuss the topic of the cat with him and Jack said that naming should be done by the owners and then that he was very busy. The Doctor had offered to help but Jack just replied he was busy with paperwork and didn't need any help.

The Master looks up expectantly when he comes back in, "well?"

The Doctor shakes his head, "nope, no ideas."

The Master huffs out an annoyed breath, "told you humans were useless."

The Doctor runs his hand through his hair; he feels he must put at least a token protest even though privately he's wondering if the Master's right; they couldn't even suggest one name.

"Just because cat naming isn't one of their strong points doesn't mean they're useless, they have many good points..."

The Master rolls his eyes and snorts, "if the cat feels unloved it's their fault"

*****

The sound of the TARDIS dematerialising fills the air again and Jack ponders whether it's worth it to Retcon himself and Martha.


	4. Chapter 4: Poetry

Rewatched Shakespeare in Love a few days ago, so that would account for this chapter. Also Dame Judi Dench? Rocks my Socks. Any famous physicist that's insulted during this fic, remember these aren't my views but those of two aliens who know more that you.

* * *

Schrodinger, which the Doctor had suggested because he thought it was cute, was promptly shot down on the grounds that:

By the age of six they already had a better grasp of theoretical physics that any human ever would.

Naming the cat after a theoretical physicist that was chiefly concerned with dead cats was just asking for trouble.

The Doctor had tried to argue that there was more to his theories than dead cats but then the Master pointed out that it didn't matter because all earth physics were wrong anyway and that it was really beyond him how they'd all been fooled by Newton's law of universal gravitation, when it was so obviously wrong. The Doctor knew there was no point in arguing this one, mostly because the Master was right, so he just sighed and went back to the baby name books he had been reading though.

*****

"And you're not naming him Mr. Anything! She's going to have a dignified name!"

Then the Master lunged at him, grabbing the Doctor around the waist and toppling him over. They rolled and wrestled and tried to strangle each other until the source of the problem slinked into the library meowing because she was hungry. The Master stopped pulling the Doctor's hair at the sound of the cat and pushed himself to his feet. He sneered at the Doctor a little, then picked up the cat and left to go to the kitchen presumably. That was their civilest interaction since they'd left the Torchwood hub.

Three days later and they had yet to decide on a name for the cat. Worse still, it was beginning to put a lot of strain on their already decidedly strained relationship. They had been getting on relatively well (for them) since they'd started up what the Doctor hesitated to call a relationship but had to for lack of a better word.

The Doctor knew an actual escape attempt was imminent, not the half-heart ones that the Master had been coming up with and he was half-heartedly foiling just because they felt they should since the Master had come on board.

All the sex had proved to be a great relaxer for both of them and that was fine and things stayed that way for quite a while, so long in fact that the Doctor had begun to think that things might always be that way.

Of course he had failed to factor in several details; things only stayed that way because it was just him and the Master; alone, with nothing else to do. The only alternative to sex was fighting and they'd gotten quite good at that over the past 900 years. So good at it, that it had become slightly boring to both of them and when they got bored they moved on to something else and since sex had never been boring...

But now there was something else to do, and as usual they threw themselves fully into the naming of the cat. With the result that they hadn't had sex, slept, had a shower, changed clothes and barely ate for the past earth week. They were both rather frazzled to say the least. Most of their fighting had degenerated into the physical sort, neither of them doing anything astonishingly intelligent over the last few days.

It worried the Doctor.

This needed to be fixed quickly.

Despite the fact that Time Lords seemed to be uniquely skilled at naming things, this talent seemed to have passed them both by. But fortunately the Doctor knew someone that was good with names.

*****

The Master pulls his arm roughly from the Doctor's grasp and gives him a sour look.

"When are we?" he snaps. He hadn't had a chance to check the console before the Doctor had practically lifted him up and pulled him out of the TARDIS.

"Elizabethan England, London to be precise." The Doctor says, a little sheepishly.

"Elizabethan?" the Master arches an eyebrow, "you came to get Shakespeare's help didn't you?" he asks rather smugly.

The Doctor runs his hand through his copious hair, "Err...well, yeah I did."

"Good. A professional is what we need," and he marches off in the direction of the Globe, leaving a mildly surprised Doctor in his wake. The Doctor follows him, but he's not worried about the Master running off, the restrains he implanted in both of them will stop him from getting too far.

They've just missed a performance, which the Doctor is a little annoyed about but then again they can catch one any time. They make their way through the crowd and backstage, where after a couple of enquiries they find Shakespeare at the very back, hunched over a table, doodling in an absent minded way.

He glances up from his stick figures and grins, "Doctor! Good, I could use some excitement!" and he gets up and gives the Doctor a bruising hug.

He glances over the Doctor's shoulder, spotting the Master.

"So no Martha Jones this time?"

"Naw went her own way," he pulls out of Shakespeare's hug and gestures at the Master, "this is the Master. He's a...friend of mine."

"The Master?" Shakespeare squints at him, looking very confused.

The Master pouts, "I've had a bit of a makeover, Will."

Shakespeare still looks confused, "It's really you?"

"Of course, don't you like the new look?" He's using his sex voice, which makes the Doctor glare at the Master. The sex voice should only be used with him!

"Oh...I like it, yes it's very nice...good," Shakespeare's got a kind of a glazed look and the Master's got a mischievous glint in his eyes and the Doctor's suddenly wondering if he made a mistake coming here.

If possible the Master's grinning even wider when he claps "Will" on the shoulder and says they should go for a drink.

Shakespeare laughs happily, grabs the Master's hand and drags him after him. The worst thing about it is that the Master lets him, no complaints like when the Doctor does it.

The Doctor seethes and follows them to the tavern across the road from the Globe.

The Doctor picks a table at the back and sits down on the bench, the wall behind him so he can lean back against it. And observe, angrily.

The Master sits down on the opposite bench and smirks at him.

The Doctor glares at him and opens his mouth to complain when Shakespeare plops down far too close to the Master for the Doctor's liking. He places the Master's tankard in front of him gently, then practically drops the Doctor's, spilling half of it.

The Doctor never realised it before, but he hates Shakespeare.

*****

Of course Shakespeare-between his bouts of attempting to steal the Master from the Doctor-is the one to ask the obvious question, "Why not the Cat? Just like you're the Doctor and you're the Master," he smiles coyly at the Master as he says this.

Now the Doctor's not had too much experience with jealousy over the last millennia or so, and when he does it's almost always Master related, so he seems to have been conditioned into thinking that making a scene is the best way to deal with it.

That last statement from Shakespeare was just enough to set off the little "Scene! Scene! Scene!" klaxons inside his head.

He snarls, grabs Shakespeare's lapels and pulls him across the table until they're nose to nose "Listen here; we didn't call it that because it's insulting! Now give us a name for the damn cat and get your hand off the Master's KNEE!"

The entire tavern has gone silent, probably hoping that a fight will start.

Shakespeare's wheezing and gasping, it probably has something to do with how tightly the Doctor's holding his collar. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the Master grinning like the Cheshire cat. Did they think of that name already? Right, he had decided against it because he felt it was too creepy. Anyway, where was he? Oh yeah...

"Name! Now!" and he pulls Shakespeare across the table and in front of him, overturning the table as he does so. The Master gets gracefully to his feet, saving his ale before everything gets sent crashing to the ground.

Shakespeare's feet are dangling a few centimetres above the floor and he's turning a ghastly white-grey colour. He tries to splutter something out, but instead all that comes out is more wheezy noises.

The Master observes the scene and then moves slowly around behind the Doctor.

"Doctor," the Master's voice whispers in his ear, "'I'm all for gratuitous violence but if you kill the Bard the cat will never get a name."

The Doctor sighs and loosens his grip on Shakespeare a little but not completely, he's still too mad about all the flirting.

"Well?" he uses his angriest glare, the one that's effective on everything except the Master. And the Daleks. And various other evil doers he's come across. Or Jack.

He may have to work on the angry glare.

"Grimalkin," Shakespeare croaks out. Well the angry glare works on Shakespeare.

They quickly make their exit after that, to avoid being caught up in the tavern brawl that had broken out.

Half way back to the TARDIS, the Master sighs, "I should have let you finish him."

The Doctor doesn't even bother looking at him; he knows what he's thinking, "So you don't like the name either."

"No."

"Maybe if he had seen the cat, maybe we should bring it back to him."

The Master snorts, "Ha! After that little _performance_ Doctor? He'll be hiding under the stage at the Globe."

"Back to square one then."

They stroll back the rest of the way in silence, when they get back as to the TARDIS the Master pauses and makes a little 'mmm' noise in his throat, the Doctor who is rattling the key in the TARDIS lock because it's stuck again, stops what he's doing and turns to face the Master.

"What now?"

The Master rubs his fingers on his jacket and then examines his nails, "Well I was just remembering that _Will_ said there was another showing in half an hour."

"So?" the Doctor says through clenched teeth and turns back to the door.

The Master shrugs artfully and sighs, "We could go to it and cough through the whole thing."

The Doctor turns back to him, trying to hide his smile, "Yeah alright then."

*****

Like most big problems in life, they eventually solve themselves.

The Master's in the library, watching TV when the cat topples a book off the shelf behind him, hitting the Master on the head and generally scaring the wits out of him.

The Doctor, alerted by the vehement cursing, comes running into the library.

"What wrong?"

The Master seizes the Doctor's signed first edition of _The Wild Swans at Coole, _brandishing it like a sword at him.

"Your cat tried to kill me!" he hisses.

The Doctor puts up his hands, surrendering, "look Master I'm sure she didn't..."

The Master growls, flings the book on the sofa and stalks off, no doubt to engineer an actual escape attempt. The Doctor sighs and flops down in the sofa, picking up the discarded book and settling down to read for the next half an hour at least, until the Master blows up something semi-vital trying to get away.

Ten minutes later, he's running around the TARDIS looking for the Master when he trips over him. The Master's lying on his back, under the console, rewiring things.

The Doctor rubs his nose and then rolls over, so they're lying side by side and peers over at what the Master's doing.

"Hmm...You know that's the plumbing don't you?"

The Master gives him a derisive look and continues what he's doing.

"I'm going to scald you."

"Oh...right, well that's a new one."

The Master snorts but doesn't look back at him.

The Doctor's silent but after a minute or so, starts twitching and shifting about a little.

The Master puts down the wire cutter he had been using, "What?" he snaps.

The Doctor hums and smiles, "Oh nothing."

The Master pursues his lips, "Now I'm really going to scald you, what is _it_?"

The Doctor holds up _The Wild Swans of Coole_.

The Master groans, "Not that blasted book again!" and he picks up a screwdriver and begins to work quicker.

The Doctor flips open the book, finding the page he wants the Master to see and holds it in front of the Master's face so he can't see what he is doing. The Master narrows his eyes and reads the page in front of him, though the Doctor wishes that he had stopped rewiring the TARDIS while he was doing so.

Once he's finished he glances over at the Doctor, "Minnaloushe?"

The Doctor shrugs, "It's better than anything Shakespeare thought of."

The Master snickers, "jealousy is such a good look on you, Doctor."

"The name?"

"It sounds Gallifreyian, good name for time and space travel...and it's not rubbish, good enough for me."

"The cat did practically pick it on her own too."

The Master blows out a breath and reaches for his wire cutters again, "Minnaloushe is a masculine name though."

The Doctor shrugs and hands the Master the wire cutters, which had slid down the grating a little out of his reach.

"So we'll have a gender confused cat. If that's the worst thing that happens to it while we have it, I think it's going to be lucky."

"Agreed, spanner please."

"Well that's settled then. Hmm can't see the spanner, are you sure it's here?"

"Doesn't matter," says the Master wrapping two wires together, "Don't need it now."

They lie there side by side for a while, the Doctor thinking and the Master humming and rewiring. The Doctor's happy to let him continue, he might get the hot water working again.

"You know," begins the Master conversationally, "I'll bet that Martha and Jack would like to know that we found an appropriate name..."

The Doctor considers this and then grins, "You're right!" and he gets to his feet and starts flicking switches on the console.

"Are you finished down there?" peering over the edge of the console at the Master.

The Master quickly reconnects everything and then stands up and brushes himself off, "As you were Doctor, I'm going to find Minna."

*****

The TARDIS dematerialises in the Hub, a few hours later on the same day as the Doctor's last visit.

"Damn," Jack mutters and wonders if he has time to grab Martha and run away.

But then the Doctor opens the door and bounces out, even more of a spring in his step that usual.

Martha appears around the corner, two cups of coffee in her hands. She stutters to a halt and Jack knows she is wondering if she has time to hide.

Too late, the Doctor's spotted her and is waving enthusiastically.

"Damn" mutters Martha.

* * *

_Next Time: the Doctor realises that getting a cat might not have been a great idea after all_

A/N: The name Minnaloushe comes from the W.B Yeats poem _The Cat and the Moon._


	5. Chapter 5: Damage

Okay just a warning: here be man-sex, don't like don't read. It's just that simple.

* * *

The Doctor was forced to admit that the cat was not working out.

The Master was inclined to disagree though.

*****

It was little things at first, Minna waking him up when he was trying to sleep because she was hungry. Not that she doesn't wake the Master up for food, because she does and it's not that the Doctor begrudges feeding creatures that can't feed themselves because they lack opposable thumbs or the appropriate technology that has rendered opposable thumbs obsolete.

It really the manner of how she wakes them up. Minna would curl up beside the Master and purr contentedly until he was ready to get up and feed her. The Doctor knew this because he watches the cat at night, which is in no way creepy.

However when Minna decided to wake the Doctor up-she only came near him for food when he had fallen asleep-it was with a jab of her claws into whatever body part that was available. Of course, he would make some embarrassing noise, fall out of bed and end up kicking the Master in the process.

The Master, as cynical as he is, doesn't believe in the inherent badness of the cat, that she's purposely doing this. Instead, he just rolls his eyes, rolls over, doing his best to ignore the Doctor while muttering something about moving back to his own room. The Doctor, of course, would try to untangle himself from the blankets, while the cat purred and padded around him in an extremely superior way.

After the first six or seven times this happened, the Doctor, fearing that the Master would make good on his threat decided to make sure he'd stay by default. If default is short for the Doctor ejecting all the bedrooms in the TARDIS except his own and with a little finagling causing all the furniture that could conceivably be slept to take a quick trip to Elriun 7 if anyone began to drift off on it. There was no way the Master was going to sleep on the floor and so the Doctor got his way. By default.

The Doctor was also worried that having a cat was perhaps not the best way to improve the Master's questionable mental wellbeing. There was, of course, the perfunctory James Bond villain moments for one thing.

The amount of times the Doctor had walked in on him talking to Minna as if she was having a conversation with him was also worrying.

Yesterday, he caught him reading to her and occasionally making comments on various aspect of the story. The strangest thing was that he after he made a comment he would pause, as if giving the cat a chance to respond, then nod or shake his head at whatever Minna had "said" to him. Very worrying indeed.

Even more worrying was that he caught him explaining how to pilot the TARDIS to Minna. Clearly, the beginnings of some elaborate escape attempt. The Doctor wondered what he had done to precipitate this one or maybe the Master was just that bored. Either way, it was obvious that the cat had to go.

*****

The Doctor subtly dropped hints that maybe a pet wasn't the right thing for them, too much chance of it being injured/killed/metamorphosing, too much work involved with it. Anything he could think of really. The Master knew what he was doing but pretended to be oblivious.

Still eventually, the Doctor caught on that the Master was just playing stupid. This then caused a period of general nastiness, bitterness and childishness that made the time just after the whole business of the-year-that-never-was look like afternoon tea with crumpets.

It escalated so much that the Doctor found himself shouting one morning, "Take the stupid cat and leave!" while dripping water everywhere, clutching a bath towel and brandishing a bottle of shampoo.

What he meant to say of course was "I have many reservations about the cat and if you would kindly wait until I've had my shower and some breakfast, then I'd like to rationally discuss my concerns with you."

He didn't of course and in the end, it probably doesn't matter, as the Master would most likely do the same thing when faced with either situation.

He left.

Or more precisely he grabbed Minna, pulled a highly modified vortex manipulator from his pocket (which were also bigger on the inside), waved at the Doctor sarcastically, said "bye-bye" with equal sarcasm and activated the manipulator.

The Doctor absolutely did not squeak.

*****

As usual, the TARDIS had been orbiting Earth at the time, so it wasn't much trouble to teleport down. A few hours of buying ridiculously expensive clothing gave the Master some time to consider his position.

The conclusion he came to was this: the Doctor was taking him for granted.

The cure: a spot of jealously usually worked wonders.

Now how to go about it.

Lucy was out of the question, what with her being completely mad nowadays and locked up.

The Master considered going back and shacking up with one of the Doctor's previous incarnations. That would really make him jealous and quite angry too. Inter-Doctor hostilities were traditional after all.

Of course then there was the matter of messing up the timelines to consider. This galaxy would probably do something tedious like implode if he did go back. He had learned too, that universal destruction was not the most successful of seduction techniques.

Still there were others that could make the Doctor jealous. The Master chuckled to himself and went to pay for his newly tailored suit, courtesy of Torchwood.

*****

After the Master had spontaneously disappeared on him, the Doctor had haphazardly got dressed and raced to the console to try to track the Master. But obviously he had been planning this for a while and the TARDIS couldn't get a lock on him.

There was nothing to do but mope. He sat around for a few days listening to Cindy Lauper songs, but it was no use. If he wanted the Master back, he needed to be proactive about this.

He set the coordinates for Cardiff.

*****

Jack thinks he may be developing some kind of six sense for avoiding the Doctor. Something he has become immensely happy about.

He feels sorry for Gwen, but not _that_ sorry. She's on her own on this one.

He's just glad that he managed to hide in time.

The rest of the team will probably kill her when the Doctor leaves but she completely brought it on herself, she's the one that asked him what was wrong.

That was four hours and copious amounts of manly tears ago. Something tells Jack that this is the highly abbreviated version of the story they're getting too.

*****

"So he just took the cat and left!" The Doctor finishes, hopping up from his chair for about the twelfth million time since he originally sat on it.

"There, there" says Gwen consolingly, "I had a boyfriend like that once."

"And I can't find him anywhere!"

"Well where did you try looking?"

"Everywhere! The entire width and breadth of time and space! I even scanned black holes to make sure he hadn't fallen in one again!"

Not the usual answer you expect to get when you ask that question, behind the sofa is usually the standard.

"Yes, well did you try looking for him- just looking yourself, not using any fancy gizmos?"

The Doctor continues to mope, "No..."

"Well then just think of what he likes and start there. Does he have any hobbies?" Gwen's gotten up from the chair she has been sitting in for most of the time, hoping the Doctor will take the hint and leave.

"Well he mostly likes megalomania and the teletubbies."

Gwen just blinks, "Well is there anyone else he would go to, a shoulder to cry on?"

"No he doesn't like anyone."

Damn.

"Well...you've known each other for quite a while, haven't you?"

The Doctor looks wistful, "Yes, 900 wonderful years."

"Right, and you've been on and off again during that time?"

The Doctor scratches the back of his neck, "Well...yeah, yeah we have."

It is obvious to Gwen where the boyfriend has gone; breaking it to the Doctor gently will be difficult though.

"So has there been anyone else for him...when you two are off again?"

"No, not really. There was his wife but she shot him...Naw he wouldn't go back to her." The Doctor eyes widen as he realises exactly where the Master has gone.

Martha is unfortunate to have entered to the hub at that moment.

"Shakespeare! Bloody Shakespeare!" she can hear the Doctor shouting and suddenly he's racing past her to where the TARDIS is parked, shouting, "He left me for Shakespeare!" as he goes.

*****

Once the TARDIS has dematerialized and Jack feels it's safe to come out, he crawls out of his hiding place and puts an arm around Gwen.

"Gwen," he says grinning, "how about a raise?"

*****

Shakespeare gasps and arches up off the bed under the Master as he grazes his thumb across his nipple. The Maser smirks and is leaning forward to catch his lips as Shakespeare begins to unbutton his shirt and slide his hand across the Master's chest when the Doctor barges in brandishing a sword.

This is even better than the Master had hoped.

Shakespeare, who is already terrified of the Doctor, beats a hasty retreat.

The Master watches him go, smirking and then turns back to the Doctor and arches an eyebrow, "well?"

The Doctor drops his sword with a clang (severely damaging the floor in the process) and strides forward and pulls the Master up by his shirt collar.

"You," he snarls, punctuating each word, "Are. Not. Allowed. To. Have. Sex. With. Anyone. But. Me." Then he drags the Master into a bruising kiss and pushes him back on the bed.

He sheds his coat, jacket, shirt and tie and then wraps his tie around the Master's hands. The Master smirks at the Doctor for thoroughly falling for his plan and wriggles under him. The Doctor growls again and unzips the Master's trousers and then hooks his fingers in the waistband and pulls them and his underwear off together.

The Doctor leans down and blows warm air against the tip of his cock, the Master shudders, and his hips bucking up involuntary. The Doctor grins widely and sits back on his haunches, admiring the view.

"Tease," the Master groans.

The Doctor hums thoughtfully and rubs his thumbs over the head of the Master's cock, "No, Master, I think that's you."

The Master grits his teeth, "Hurry up and do something or I'll get Shakespeare to come back here."

The Doctor glares at him, stands up to take off his trousers, and snatches up his coat. He grins triumphantly when he finds the tube of lube and then crawls back up the bed in between the Master's spread legs.

"Finally," the Master mutters and gasps when the Doctor's hand encloses around his cock and begins roughly jerking him off. The Master shudders and gasps and the Doctor keeps it up until the Master shakes one last time and comes all over the Doctor's hand and his stomach. The Doctor licks the cum off his fingers and leans forward to kiss the Master. He makes a little disgusted face at the taste of his cum and then throws back his head and moans when the Doctor slowly puts one slicked up finger just in past his rim.

The Master hisses through his teeth, "Rassilon I hate you! Hurry up!"

The Doctor presses a second finger in along with the first, "I hate you too."

He scissors his fingers and then adds a third. He's not being very gentle but the Master's too fucked out to complain, plus he is a bit of a bastard and the Doctor decides he deserves it.

The Master moans loudly when the Doctor pulls out his fingers and then louder when the Doctor presses in. The Doctor hitches the Master's legs up over his shoulders and bends him nearly in half as he sets a brutal pace. With his hands tied, the Master can't do much except lie there, moan, and be fucked within an inch of his life.

Too soon, the Doctor's rhythm begins to falter and he comes with a moan and bites down on the Master's shoulder.

The Doctor collapses on top of him and the Master grunts in protest and half-heartedly shoves him. The Doctor sighs happily, rolls over, unties the Master's hands, and then mutters, "Only sex with me". Then he drifts off. The Master rolls his eyes and gets up before the Doctor can start to sleep snuggle.

Quickly he picks up his discarded clothes, pulling them on quickly and quietly. When he's dressed, he peeks out the door and the first thing he notices is Shakespeare and a crowd of enraged actors with pointy things making their way up the street.

The Master laughs gleefully at the prospect of this and the Doctor, who has conditioned himself to wake when the Master laughs gleefully, unsurprisingly wakes up.

"Wha?" he mumbles.

The Master pouts, "Did you have to wake up? I was looking forward to seeing you stabbed rather like an impromptu performance of Julius Caesar."

"Huh?" and the Doctor stumbles to his feet and somehow manages to pull on his trousers without tripping. He blinks myopically over the Master's shoulder and rubs his eyes with his fist, "Is everyone that Shakespeare knows coming to kill me with pointy things?"

The Master grins, "I'd say he knows more people than that."

"Hate you..." and he slams the door and haphazardly begins to pull on his jacket, coat, and converse, his shirt lying forgotten at his feet.

"C'mon!" and he pulls the Master towards a conveniently placed backdoor.

They run through the muddy back streets and make it to the TARDIS just in time, slamming the door after them, because actors, it turns out, are _fast_.

*****

It's not until, after they've dematerialized and had a good argument (their way of saying-I'm glad you're back/I'm glad to be back) that they realise they've left the cat in Elizabethan England. The Master decides they have to go back and the Doctor agrees on the condition that the Master doesn't set foot outside the TARDIS. Just to be doubly sure that he doesn't the Doctor may have slipped something into his tea.

After a couple of fruitless hours searching randomly, the Doctor finally decides that he has to talk to Shakespeare. The Master had said that was where Minna would probably be after all. He possibly, maybe owes him an apology too.

The Globe's quiet and almost in darkness when the Doctor gets there, but he can see the flickering of candle light from somewhere in the back. Sure enough, it's Shakespeare furiously scribbling away.

The Doctor clears his throat loudly and Shakespeare jumps and then moves back, putting his hands up placating, "You're not going to kill me are you?"

"No, no, not really my style."

Shakespeare sighs, relieved.

"Listen," the Doctor rubs the back of his neck, "You haven't seen a cat about here? Anywhere? Have you?"

"Yes, she's asleep in that box yonder" and he points to the corner where Minna is curled up, purring contentedly.

"Right, good, good...and I wanted to apologise...for everything that happened between us over the Master."

Shakespeare sighs and sits down, "No, no need to sir. I have accepted the truth that we were not meant to be," he perks up a little, "it has even given me great inspiration for my next work!"

"Really? What is it?" The Doctor sits down on a chair beside Shakespeare's desk.

"Oh it will be a tragic comedy Doctor, a story about two lovers, separated by fate, one of the betrothed away-"

"No, no, we're not betrothed yet".

Shakespeare ignores it and keeps on talking, "It will be full of mistaken identities, have a ship wreck, pirates-"

The Doctor grins, "And what are you going to call it?"

"Romeo and Ethel the pirate's daughter" he finishes triumphantly.

The Doctor makes a choking noise, "Right, well must be off," and he stoops down and picks up Minna, careful not to wake her, "oh but maybe you should rethink the name."

* * *

Thank you everyone who has commented so this story *Hugs and Loves Ya*


	6. Chapter 6: A week in the life

**Title:A week in the life. Part six of the cat!verse.  
Rating: R  
Word count: 2,895  
Disclaimer: Not mine  
Warning: reference to certain parts of a male cat's anatomy  
Summary: It's a typical week for them  
A/n: sorry for the delay, this chapter really kicked my ass.  
**

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* * *

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**Monday to Wednesday.**

"Hmmm...Which one, do you think?" the Maser glances up from the cat collars that he had been scrutinizing with intensity that have previously only been used on his various schemes (to get the Doctor's attention) to ask for the Doctor's opinion (not that he really wants it). He frowns at the Doctor who stiffens and gives the Master a sheepish smile and tries not to look like he was attempting to sneak away because he was bored.

The Master's frown deepens, "where exactly are you going?"

"Ugh...nowhere...was just going to look at the santraginean fish over here. See look, that one's made of sapphires! Oh look! And these ones are made of marble!"

Before he can lope off, the Master grabs his coat sleeve.

"No, stay here. What did we talk about? Hmm? We were going to get a collar for Minna and you were to-"

"Stay still and quiet. But-"

"No buts, why were you to stay still and quiet?"

"So we didn't end up running for our lives/ accidentally or purposely causing an uprising/ helping someone in need/ attracting the attention of any enemies that we may have made over the course of the last millennia" he rattles off, obviously having heard this more than once.

"And there are plenty enemies, more mutual ones than expected, really" thus satisfied the Master turns back to continue examining the collars. When he looks up again, the Doctor is gone.

"Bugger" the Master mutters and turns back to the collars for a third time. He takes his time considering, humming while he does so, enjoying himself before things invariably go to hell. Finally, he picks a simple black one with a purple silk lining made from the wings of a sghaton fly. It will match his favourite coat.

He hums all the way to the counter, where the shop assistant-who is wearing about 40 golden hoops and consequently has an elongated neck-smiles at him and jabbers off something about a special on elgrain cuttlefish.

"Guaranteed to sing you to sleep every night, sir!"

Apparently.

The Master's not interested; he knows that they will eat fingernails given the chance.

He smiles and declines, paying with the Doctor's currency imitator. It's not actually going to cost the Doctor anything; it's just the principle of the thing. He is truly surprised when it isn't declined.

It's quite a shock whenever he finds something of the Doctor's that works the way it's meant to or even at all.

The girl hands over his purchase, and he leans on the counter and gives her a smile that he hopes seems like a bashful smile instead of an "I'm this close to blowing this planet into cereal sized chunks" smile.

He chuckles sweet naturedly just to make himself look even shyer. Even blushes a little. It suddenly occurs to him that she might think that he's trying to work up the courage to ask her out. He frowns and sighs a little at this, its hard being so irresistible.

Then he smiles at her again, "I don't suppose you've seen my partner have you? Tall, brown coat, brown suit, unusually styled brown hair, brown eyes and awful shoes. A hyperactive brownness, I suppose you would describe him. He was here just a moment ago but I can't seem to find him now."

The shop girl smiles nervously and her cat ears twitch, the Master's eyes narrow and he reaches across the counter and grasps her wrist gently but firmly, "where is he?"

Her feline like eyes narrow in fear and she begins to stutter out, "I-I'm s-sorry sir-" when something thumps the Master on the back of the head and he is out for the count.

*****

In the Doctor's defence, boredom wasn't his only reason for wandering off and then being kidnapped. He actually had a sound, logical basis for wandering off.

Whenever the Master really got into obsessing on something, in this case spoiling Minna more than any cat has ever been spoiled before, the Doctor had a knack for coming along and completely upsetting the whole apple cart, whether he meant to or not.

He tries to explain this to the Master, once he himself had calmed down. The Master is angrier with the Doctor disappearing than at the situation they found themselves now. The Doctor supposes this is because it isn't completely uncharted territories for him.

The Doctor ends his explanation/apology by surmising that it could be worse.

The Master stares at the Doctor, wondering if perhaps he has suffered significant lesions to his prefrontal cortex. Reasoning seemed significantly impaired.

"Could be _worse_, Doctor? My ears aren't where they were this morning!"

Maybe he is a little angry about their current circumstances.

The Doctor decides that he had better say something to make things better.

"Well they do make you look adorable."

The Master huffs and turns his back to the Doctor.

"You got a tail!"

"Yes, thank you Doctor, like I'm going to miss growing a tail."

The Master examines his new claws, thankful that he still has fingers. The lack of whiskers is also good. While he is doing this, he wonders how long it will take the Doctor to realise that he also has a tail.

"Aaaaaah!"

Not that long then.

The Master turns around to watch the Doctor pull at his own tail and then yelp when it hurts.

"So, you've got a brown tail, expected really. British longhair if I'm not mistaken. Thought you'd be a skinnier variety though, but who can really tell if there's anything under all the hair on those cats," he comments and then laughs in a way that makes the Doctor look worriedly at him.

"Yes," says the Doctor slowly, the same soothing tone he had used back when the drums were the Master's main preoccupation "are you alright?"

The Master hates that tone. He ignores the question and instead asks one of his own.

"When you introduce yourself to people, do many of them start telling knock-knock jokes? Doctor, Doctor, I think you are a complete imbecile."

The Doctor smiles, but it comes out more like a grimace, he still hasn't got used to his new teeth.

"That's not a knock-knock joke," he says cheerfully, "no punch-line!"

And then the Master hits him.

*****

The Doctor's out cold for quite a while, so the Master amuses himself by shredding his trousers with his claws and thinking up other ways to get back at him.

He has a nice little trouser destruction system created their captors appear. He sinks a claw into the top a pinstripe, just below the waistband and follows the stripe down to the hemline.

A cleared throat distracts him from his task. He glances up at the little entourage. All of them are semi-cat humanoids, most of them glaring angrily at the cat man who cleared his throat.

The Master clears his throat, just in case it is the standard greeting here, wherever here is. He does not intend to be spit-roasted today.

Everyone gasps and throws themselves to their hands and knees, bowing before him.

This is an intriguing development.

*****

When the Doctor comes to, two cat girls are propping him up on what appears to be a throne.

"Uhh..." he says intelligently.

"Oh you're awake," says an amused voice somewhere to his left.

He blinks blearily and tries to find the Master through a sea of cleavage, it is...difficult.

Finally, he lurches to his feet, head still thumping and side steps around the cat girls as politely as he can. The long robes he's wearing don't help matters.

The Master catches his eye, does a series of minuscule but complicated hand movements, something they had thought up during their first term and continued to use until Ushas had cracked their code, which meant that they had to think up a new method of communication. Basically, the Master's gestures mean: they think we're their gods and have got very big weapons so for once in your life play along.

The Doctor sneakily glances around and yes, the guards do have very big weapons, rather pointy in fact. He decides it's best to sit back down on his throne and get a foot rub instead.

*****

The cat people are sketchy with the details but the basic facts are as follows: some prophecy suggested that their gods would return in an unusual blue craft and when they returned they would grant victory over the canines who lived three planets away.

The Master points out after they were told this that kidnapping them, hitting them over the head and then forcing them to transform isn't the way most people treat gods.

The high priest refutes this by saying that they're better than most people

*****

Public sex had always been a bit of a problem for both of them, too deeply ingrained with "proper conduct befitting a Time Lord", although the Doctor occasionally wondered where on the proper conduct spectrum did genocide lie. Whenever he wondered this aloud, the Master usually rolled his eyes and suggested appropriate activities to get his mind off the matter.

They had hidden this part of their relationship away too well for it to be any other way than secretive.

But occasionally, very occasionally, at times like now, when they couldn't care less where they were.

The Master pulls the Doctor's head down and their lips don't meet so much as wage war with each other. They moan into each other's mouths, nipping and biting as they go. They're in a little alcove, just off one of the main temple corridors but that really doesn't matter to them right now. The Doctor runs his fingers through the Master's short hair, failing several times before he gets a good grip and pulls the Master's head back sharply. The Master growls at the challenge (his growl has become more growly-ier as of late) and began to mouth roughly along the Doctor's jaw line. Never one to be out done he takes advantage of his new claws, neatly rips through the ridiculous robes the natives have forced upon them. He grasps the Doctor's cock roughly, and then hisses loudly. The Doctor hisses too, albeit for different reasons and murmurs encouragements and begins thrusting. The sudden movement shocks the Master out of his surprised induced stupor; he hisses again and pulls his hand back like he's been burned.

The Doctor whimpers at the loss of contact, "Why'd you stop," he says breathlessly.

"I'm not putting my hand back in there again!" the Master says, a little shrilly and definitely pained as he waves the hand in question in front of the Doctor's face. It's raw looking and bleeding in several places.

"What?" the Doctor looks confused momentarily, before the realisation dawns on him.

"Oh no," he whispers before looking down with trepidation. Then he does what the Master feels is the only reasonable response to this situation: he screams. In fact given the evidence that this is most likely not an isolated occurrence and is most likely affecting him too, the Master decides to have a little scream too.

*****

The unfortunate reality of the situation is this: the screaming alters oh..._everyone._

The Master legs it of course, leaving a thoroughly dazed Doctor to deal with the temple guards, attendants, high priests, worshippers and anyone else that happens to be in the vicinity.

Given the circumstances, he feels it is the best thing to do.

The Doctor once he comes to (not that he was actually out cold, rather he was in a disassociated state due to his shock but his state of awareness was roughly the same as that of someone who was unconscious), he's led off by the temple priests so they can tend to him.

Fortunately, his hard on has disappeared by the time they strip him and dress him in new clean robes.

Then the questioning begins. What happened? Who attacked them? Where is...? Had he been hurt? Injured? Taken? Or...killed?

The Doctor, feeling slightly better now and even angrier with the cat people decides to indulge in his fondness for dramatics.

He throws himself sobbing into the arms of the nearest guard, who looks distinctly uncomfortable with this development. He wails loudly demanding that Harry (the pseudonym that the Master persisted in using because "it was the only thing he could think of") be returned to him.

This meant that he is left alone while everyone else dashes around like headless chickens looking for Harry. Just the opportunity he has been waiting for the last two days.

The entire temple faction had been very attentive to them, far too attentive for the Doctor's liking, affording him no chance of slipping away and investigating and absolutely no chance of escaping.

It seems that the Master had taken advantage of the confusion to do the exact same thing.

The Doctor's already found the device that brought them here from the pet shop and it running around wildly looking for the Master when he rounds a corner and barges straight into him.

"Hello!" the Doctor says brightly as they pick themselves off the ground. The Doctor snatches up his sonic and his coat, he'd left his suit behind since it was in ribbons.

"You seem cheerful," the Master comments, lifting the box containing Minna's collar off the ground.

"Found a way to get back to the TARDIS!"

"Good" the Master holds up a vial of purple viscous liquid, "It's whatever they gave us to cause the cat transformation. There doesn't seem to be an antidote but it shouldn't be too hard to reverse engineer one from this."

"Brilliant!"

Then they hear the all too familiar sound of a mob of guards that is searching for them drawing closer.

"We should make our exit," the Master says blithely.

The Doctor grins,"Yeah, with those big weapons and that, it'd probably be best. C'mon, this way!" then he grabs the Master's hand and pulls him towards the exit.

**Thursday.**

The Master had been right; it wasn't too hard to reverse engineer an antidote for their current predicament.

They had squabbled the appropriate amount over the right way to do it, the Master tried to shoo the Doctor away and the Doctor eventually did leave if only to feel guilty, mope and make tea.

Once the Master is happy that everything is right, it becomes a waiting game until the concoction is ready.

Each of them retires to different parts of the TARDIS with their tea. The Doctor goes, as usual, to the console room, tinkers with the TARDIS, and occasionally spills some tea on the navigation circuit.

The Master retreats to the library and finds Minna curled up in front of the fireplace, purring contentedly.

He sits down beside her, stroking her and she purrs louder. Carefully he puts the collar around her neck, "there my gorgeous girl."

Then he grabs a book, at random, from the shelves and settles down with his tea to read.

The rest of the day isn't spent so comfortably, once the antidote is ready, they spend a long painful evening shouting at each other and losing various feline body parts.

**Friday.**

They try to buy a scratching post. From a different pet shop this time, of course.

It is both more successful and less successful than trying to buy a collar. While they never actually manage to get the scratching post, they don't grow any extra body parts.

The Doctor has his credit card declined (even though it's not actually a credit card, really he has his currency imitator declined albeit that's technically an impossibility) and the Master encounters some Cybermen. After a brief discussion, they decided that they're better suited for dealing with each other's problems and things are very quickly sorted. Most of the shop is destroyed though, every scratching post buried under a mass of rubble.

"TARDIS?" the Master enquires.

The Doctor sucks in a breath through his teeth, "Yeah, I think so."

**Saturday.**

During a brief perusal of Martha's room, the Master comes across a laptop. The nature of it (i.e. it's a bunch of space junk thrown together) indicates to him that this was an attempt by the Doctor to allow one of his companions to stay in touch with the happening of their home planet.

After finding nothing remotely useful for blackmail, he spends sometime randomly looking at web pages. This is when he gets an idea.

*****

"Welcome back to Psychic house radio, that's the home of the best psychics in the world. I am the Master of your destiny and I'm here until four. Using the aide of psychic feline vibrations, I can tap into the power of the universe to reveal what the fates have in store for you..."

He's three hours into his four-hour slot, Minna purring contentedly on his lap and offering "proof" and has just advised a housewife that she should take a long trip, maybe even leave her husband and she's sure to become a famous TV chef, when the Doctor stumbles upon them.

Understandably he's quiet mad. The argument that follows ranks somewhere near the middle of all the arguments they've had, which means there's much destruction but no death.

**Sunday.**

They have some tea and spend the day in bed.

* * *

This chapter is dedicated to everyone that commented. Thank you so much guys!


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